Rolling Rock©: The Official Beer of Easter Morning

Stone

Happy Easter!

 

 

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Good Friday: Lord Of The Dance

The Lord of the Dance

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame!
They whipped they stripped they hung me high
And they left me there on a cross to die!

I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body and they thought I’d gone
But I am the Dance and I still go on!

They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the Life that’ll never, never die!
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in Me –
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He!

Dance then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He!
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the Dance, said He!
(…lead you all in the Dance, said He!)

Sydney Carter

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Venezuelan protests: Trump administration is sucking the air out of world news

Demonstrators clash with police during a protest in Caracas, Venezuela on April 8, 2017. PHOTO: EPA

This is Holy Week, the last week of Lent, which actually ends today, leading up to Easter. When I was in grade school we used to get a vacation from Thursday to Tuesday. These days, with spring breaks included in most school calendars,  the days off for Easter are limited to Good Friday and, in schools but not most businesses, Easter Monday.

Millions of Venezuelans make there way to beaches for sun and surf. This year a new twist has been put on where and how Holy Week sunning should be done.

In Venezuela this week has traditionally been a time to kick back and relax. Millions of Venezuelans make their way to beaches for sun and surf. This year a new twist has been put on where and how Holy Week sunning should be done.

Since the first of April hundreds of thousands of opposition protesters have taken to the streets daily in an effort to force new election. On the April first the government of Nicolas Maduro stripped the Venezuelan congress of its powers, making the country a de facto dictatorship. The move has since been overturned, but the protests continue. Opposition leaders are urging people to forego the beach this year and take the sun while marching in the streets of Caracas. Will this latest round of demonstrations have the desired effect?

The Venezuelan opposition has been calling for peaceful protests this week, as it has on numerous occasions before. Thus far the result has been failure. Maduro has no interest in a new election, transparent democracy not being high on his list of essentials.  I can only assume he is hoping the situation in the US continues to hold the world’s attention.

There is a popular cliché that fits this situation: the Trump administration is sucking the air out of world news.

If the protests do not succeed in bringing about a new election, then perhaps they will serve to show the world what is happening in the oil-rich country. But I fear that with the regular flow of idiocy out of Washington – from Trump’s knee-jerk reaction to bomb Syrian airfields (some say he would have done the runways more damage had he bought the airfield and tried to run it as a business) to Sean Spicer’s foot/ankle/shin in mouth statement about Hitler not using chemicals – the world is otherwise occupied.

There is a popular cliché that fits this situation: the Trump administration is sucking the air out of world news. International ne’er-do-wells must be having a field-day while world attention focuses on Trump-Russia and Syria.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Tweets From Good Friday

Easter_Tweets

DCS_Grad_2 DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DC on Twitter @DCMontreal and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

 

Confessions of a Beer Heathen, a Hop Heretic, a Lager Lightweight

BeerGlasses

Here in Montreal the long cold winter may, just may, have loosened its dreadful grip on the city. While not as snow-laden as others in the north-east had to endure, our winter was particularly cold. Some would have you believe that cold is the way to go, as it does not require shoveling and causes less travel inconvenience. But I would hasten to point out that snow, unlike extreme cold, does not hurt.

The sun’s warmth is starting to win its battle with the cold air and can be felt on one’s skin. Birds chirp and with daylight savings the days are wonderfully long. There can be no doubt, it’s barbecue time, it’s hockey playoff time, but mostly it’s cold beer time.

It is also rumored that beer can cause both hardening of the arteries and erectile dysfunction. If that isn’t the cruelest irony I don’t know what is.

I like beer. I really like beer.  In fact family members and doctors would have you believe I like it too much, but then what do they know. These are the same people who would have you believe drinking beer causes one to put on weight. Huh! I can understand how drinking milkshakes could add to one’s midriff, but something that is the same consistency as water, and which will be jettisoned (they say you don’t buy beer, you just rent it) in the men’s room? C’mon, I’m not falling for that. It is also rumored that beer can cause both hardening of the arteries and erectile dysfunction. If that isn’t the cruelest irony I don’t know what is.

RollingRock

In addition to being a beer lover, perhaps paradoxically, I am also a beer heathen, a hop heretic, a lager lightweight. No fancy microbrewery maple bacon ale with a hint of pine needle and dash of pumpkin seed nectar shit for me. Give me ice cold light beer; buckets of it if you please. A frosty freezer-housed glass and some cold beer light enough to allow me to consume vast quantities yet still feel and show virtually no signs of inebriation and I’m a happy lad. Those super high alcohol content beers, many from the Netherlands, are popular at my corner store, but are not my cup of tea.

It’s beer for Christ’s sake, get it down your neck and get in the next round.

I do appreciate the wonder of a pint or two of Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day. And I do have a soft spot for chilled Younger’s Tartan Ale with a good Indian meal. A Hoegaarden or two as a palette cleanser goes well. I am a big fan of Newcastle Brown Ale. But for the main event bring on the Coors Light, blue mountains and all. Someone once asked me if the mountains depicted on the Coors Light cans really do turn blue when they reach a certain temperature. I had to admit I’d never had one in my fridge for that long. Do I hear a Rolling Rock, the official beer of Easter morning, calling my name?

I can picture beer connoisseurs looking down their noses – all the way along their crystal schooners of Sparrow’s Spit Pale Ale – at this revelation, but I don’t care. By all means sit back and discuss the merits of a Pilsner over a lager. Swish it around your mouth and pontificate on how it dances over your tongue and taste buds. It’s beer for Christ’s sake, get it down your neck and get in the next round.

Coors

It gets better: my local big box supermarket knocks five bucks off the price of a thirty can crate of Coors Light on Montreal Canadiens game days. With the team starting what I hope will be a long playoff run, during which they play every second day, I stand to save a small fortune. Talk about a win win situation.

DCS_Grad_2 DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DC on Twitter @DCMontreal and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

 

Happy Easter!

Happy Oyster Easter – damn spell check!

Easter

Me DCMontreal is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and Freans and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DC on Twitter @DCMontreal and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Booby-Trapped Tea Cups

Welcome to Holy Week, the lead-up to Easter and the end of Lent. Good Catholic lad that I am I always give up coffee for lent. It doesn’t do anything spiritually for me, just gives me some ammunition to look down on others with disdain. Until, that is, I run into someone who has given up beer, now that’s truly the stuff of sainthood!

To fill the void I take to tea. Believe me, it’s not cheating; for my taste buds tea is no substitute for coffee. I’ve dropped into a couple of tea specialty places, but not being a connoisseur the mumbo-jumbo about tips and leaf placement on the stem is lost on me. I just want a cup of, as my late father, an inveterate tea drinker from his days in the navy during WW2 called it, slops!

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Non-booby-trapped cup

I prefer to go to my usual coffee shop – Second Cup – and have my tea there. But I had to ask them to stop booby-trapping my cup. For some reason the baristas, more adept at coffee than tea, would place the Earl Grey tea bag in the cup of hot water, then sneakily tie it to the cup handle. You see, when it comes to tea bags, I’m a squeezer. I expedite the process of steeping by smooshing the tea bag to get all the flavour out. I use a spoon or wooden stir-stick to effect this maneuver, then using the same implement I fling the spent tea bag into the trash.

Not thinking the bag was tethered to the cup, on more than one occasion I have hurled bag, stick and full cup of tea into the receptacle.

It has taken me almost all of the Lenten season to remember to ask them not to tie the bag and they have most kindly accommodated my lapsing memory.

Me DCMontreal is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and Freans and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DC on Twitter @DCMontreal and on Facebook, and add him on Google+